Tagged: Yadier Molina

The RSBS Podcast, Episode 29: Remembering Ugueth’s Urbina and Other Stuff

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And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles

Jeff tries his darnedest to be as polite as possible during his unfettered gloating of World Championship status (Go Cards!) while Second City’s Mark Piebenga adds some level-headed awesomeness to Johanna’s outlandishness and Allen’s seasoned straight man routine.  Among the topics of discussion are “the greatest game ever”, the woes of rebranding an already twice championed franchise (talkin’ to you, Marlins), Theo Fever in the Chi, b!tch t!ts and much, much more!

Now grab some Crown Royal and enjoy yo’ self!

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Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*

Subscribe via iTunes by clicking *HERE*

*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. Follow Keith on on Twitter and make sure to check out his crew and their gut busting Undercast! podcast.

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Recorded Saturday, November 12, 2011

Tears of Joy, Tears of Sorrow

The afterglow of knowing your team is champion of the baseball world is a pretty damn cool thing.  I have been walking around the last few days in a sort of “Happy Flight” daze.  I’ve been smiling more.  I feel fantastic.  But yesterday morning, reality hit me: there won’t be any more baseball for a looooooooong time.

And then the text messages started coming.

Did you hear?

OMG Tony is hangin’ em up.

Are you okay? I just heard about TLR.

When Tony LaRussa took over the St. Louis Cardinals in 1996, I was just an awkward, acne-plagued high schooler who nerded out on keeping score at baseball games.  Now, 16 years later, I’m an awkward, 32 year-old professional who nerds out on keeping score at baseball games.

Not much has changed, yet much has changed.

In the early 90s, the Cardinals weren’t very good.  But from the minute the announcement was made that he would be the new St. Louis skipper, I immediately had a new found sense of… hope.  It was innate.  It was from within.  I don’t know why, but I just knew: our team was going to be good.

And we were!  From 1996 to the present, there hasn’t been one year where I didn’t think the Cardinals had a legitimate shot at the postseason.  Sure, some years were better than others, but with Tony at the helm, I have always had a sort of calm about the team.

That’s not to say he hasn’t made me scratch my head.  But I soon learned to stop questioning his umteenth pitching change.  His post-game explanation always made sense.  Our pitcher is hitting in the eight hole?  Of course he is.  Bringing in the closer in the 5th inning?  Exactly what I would do.  In fact, I learned very early on that if I was going to keep score during a TLR managed game, then I was going to have to a) write small b) write small and c) WRITE SMALL.

Still, I am going to miss Tony LaRussa.  A lot.  Just thinking about someone else being in the dugout with his job gives me the creeps.   My happy place is Tony giving the sign to Yadi.  Yadi fires down to first.  Albert makes the tag on the runner.  And right now, in light of TLR’s announcement and the ongoing question of whether or not Albert will be back in St. Louis next year, my happy place suddenly finds itself under baseball siege.

But, like everything else in life, I will just have to deal with that shizz when it comes.  In the meantime, I sure hope Tony doesn’t consider becoming an actor.  I have been suffering through the Ray Vinson commercials long enough.

Hate me ‘cuz I’m gettin’ misty eyed, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Chillin’ with the Enemy

Rubbin' a little Bernie Brewer belly... because I can.

For those of us caught up in the modern technocratic lifestyle, establishing a clear line between friend and foe makes life a bit simpler (albeit unpleasant at times).  When prompted for an opinion, we often don’t have time to think; we must know, must be ready to jump on a topic and run.  And this is where established distinctions are helpful (even if detrimental to peace — sorry!).

It’s 2011 and enemies abound.  In the NBA, LeBron is the antithesis of good.  In politics, we have Sarah Palin.  In humanity, it’s Charlie Sheen.

But what do we do when our “enemies” aren’t that bad at all?

Over the weekend, the St. Louis Cardinals got swept by the Milwaukee Brewers, a feat that not only caused a bit of embarrassment for me and my fellow bird fanatics, but also knocked the Cardinals out of first place all together.  Am I angry?  Do I want to hold my breath and take a hammer to my digits?  Am I going to hurt someone?

No, of course not.  It’s June and the NL Central race has barely begun.  But I must say, even if it does come down to St. Louis and Milwaukee in October, I will have a hard time hating on the Brewers like I do the sCrUBBIES.

On Saturday, I went to Miller Park for the very first time and I have to say: it’s a beautiful place full of beautiful people genuinely enjoying our beautiful sport.  Have you ever seen a sea of tailgaters for a baseball game?!?  I mean, everyone was so… nice!  And the park experience was so… pleasant… and the atmosphere was so… positive!

Prior to this excursion, my understanding of the Brewers organization could be summed up in three sentences: Beat you in ’82.  Bud Selig was a better owner than a commish.  And Prince Fielder is HONGRY.

But really, after taking in the Miller Park experience I have to update my mental Rolodex.  It’s not every day you visit a rival ballpark and are welcomed with a smile and a handshake.  And as often as I’ve donned my ’06 WS patched Yadier Molina jersey into enemy territory, only at Miller Park was I stopped and commended on my team’s run of that year.  And did I mention the cheese curds!?

Oh what heaven!!!

Don’t worry, dear readers, I ain’t gettin’ soft.  I’ll box a Brewer if I gotta; but in a world where negativity rules the infoway, I find it refreshing to give credit to those who are pretty cool folks.

That being said, I hope the Brewers lose every one of their games from here until the end of the season.

Hate me ‘cuz you can, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Johanna and I posin' prior to first pitch.

The RSBS Podcast, Episode 23: Buster’s Broken Body… and Other Stuff

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And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles

Jeff and Johanna join forces in what is secretly designed as an intervention for Allen and his anachronistic memory.  The three of them then launch into some raunchy debates over this young MLB season, including but not limited to double headers, home plate collisions, “offensive” t-shirts and much, much more… all to make you smile for berry berry long time!

Holla!

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Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*

Subscribe via iTunes by clicking *HERE*

*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. Make sure you take some time to check out Keith and his crew’s laugh-riot podcast. Follow him on Twitter to get the latest updates.  They’re doing some fantastic work!  You can find out more at Undercard Films.

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Recorded Saturday, May 28, 2011

The Filibuster

If you could spend the day with any non-Cardinal baseball player
currently playing in the majors, who would it be and what would you do?

Melissa
Sandusky, OH
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writing_letter.jpg
Is it just me or am I constantly being set up by my friends and dear readers to expound on my favorite baseballers in a way that encourages embracing a certain, subtly disclosed homoerotic undertone?

Or, maybe I’m just reading too much into it.

I dunno.

Okay, Melissa, so you take away my number one and two options by canceling out the Cards; but let me assure you, the number three spot is also a no-brainer.  For me, anyway.  Of course, you may be shocked to hear it but for this hypothetical man-crush date (is it a man-crush date or did I make that part up too?) I’m going with the one, the only:

Stephen James Strasburg.

stephen strasburg fastball grip.jpg
WHAT!?!?

Exactly.

Here’s how our date day will go…

9 a.m. Workout
I pick Stephen up and we head to the Nats’ training facility.  I am Stephen’s shadow.  I do very little talking and a whole lot of observing.  I don’t wanna make this strange for the 22 year old phenom, so I just go with the flow.  I know Stephen is out for the season, recovering from Tommy John surgery, but a man’s still gotta stay in shape and I wanna know how he does it. (Also, when no one is looking, I coat Nyjer Morgan’s supportive equipment with government grade Tiger Balm.)

12 p.m. Lunch

We eat a healthy, protein-packed lunch that will fire our fast twitch muscle fibers so we recover faster, to become stronger.  I now start asking questions, overly aware of how annoying I can be when given free reign to discuss all-things baseball.  Eventually, these questions lead to hitter preparation science, so off we go to…

2 p.m. Video Room
I want to get inside the head of Stephen Strasburg.  So I present to him a reel of the Major League’s best hitters: Albert Pujols, Adrian Gonzalez, Joey Votto.  I want to know how he is going to approach them.  I want to see him point out their holes.  Stephen, of course, is as calculated as he is modest, and he ain’t givin’ up too many secrets.

3 p.m.  Practice Field [For this part, let us forget that Stephen can’t pitch right now, shall we?]
Luckily, I brought along my catcher’s equipment from high school (it all still fits!), including my over sized mitt.  I take my place behind the plate and ask Stephen to go easy on me.  In high school I think the fastest fastball I ever caught was in the 70 mph range.  After three Strasburg change-ups, I lose all feeling in my catching hand.  But this is Stephen Friggin’ Strasburg, so I man up, take the pain and ask for more.  Watching his yacker yack and his fastball bite, wow… just, wow.

5 p.m. My Crib
All my best friends (Mr. Krause, Johanna Mahmud, Yadier Molina) come over to my place.  We got beer.  We got wings.  We got pizza.  We also got a big screen HD TV showing the very first Strasmas ever: June 8, 2010 — the greatest single regular season game that didn’t mean anything, ever played, in the history of my universe.  Ever.  We watch in amazement as Stephen talks us through each at-bat, each pitch, each hair raising moment. 

After three plus hours of pizza, wings, beer and Strasmas in my very own living room, I am finally able to sit back on my couch, relax, and wait to die.

It’s been a splendid day.

Life is good.

Don’t hate me.

‘Cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

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**Have a topic you want to see us Filibuster?  Want a
free pimp for your blog?  How ’bout just making Mr. Krause look as silly as Mario Lopez hosting a television show (trust us, it ain’t hard)?  Send us your Filibuster questions
by emailing kraulung@gmail.com or by commenting below.

Y’Can’t Crush Dis

jeff and allen crush.jpgTwo years ago, in order to quell our insatiable desire for all-things baseball prior to Opening Day, my woebegone and oft curt colleague (Mr. Allen Krause) and I decided to get our baseball fill through glorious song.  Said gloriousness was achieved by lip-syncing “Crush” by David Archuleta. 

It was da bomb.

And it played a major role in making RSBS a household MLBlog name.

Everything was perfect…

UNTIL…

Sony had the video blocked.  About a year ago.  They claimed we shouldn’t be able to post the material because it was not our music.  We acknowledged that — DUH — but retorted that ours fell under parody law, that we made no claim that it was our song.  We gave credit where it was due and only asked that our interpretation of Archuleta’s hit be given a chance to thrive, because other baseball beserkers would find it consoling during the antsy prelude to the long season.

Somehow, the baseball gods were appeased.  And “Crush” is back online.*

For all of our dear readers — new, old, barely breathing — please, enjoy the show!

And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Happy Friday!

Jeff

**Apparently, some folks outside the US may still have it blocked. So, uh… guess you better move to ‘Merica so you can see it.

Waino Es Bueno, But the Elbow Not So Much

Waino es bueno

Ask anyone from my parents’ generation where they were and what they were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated, when the Beatles invaded America or when they first saw Jacqueline Bisset in a wet t-shirt, and chances are he or she will be able to recall every, single, little detail.

Unfortunately, February 23, 2011 will be that day for me: the day Waino went down for the season — a seemingly unerasable stain on the psyche of a bonafide baseball beserker (me, duh).

Booze was consumed, things were broken, neighbors were frightened.

But that’s over now.  I got it all out of my system.  And just as in dealing with any other tragic situation, I allowed myself to grieve.  But now it’s time to man-up and put things in perspective.

We are still talking about the St. Louis friggin’ Cardinals here.  And while we may not have him locked up long-term, we do have the greatest single baseball player of the last quarter century headlining our team, every single day in Albert Pujols. 

We still have an ace in Chris Carpenter.  We still have AP protection in Matt Holliday.  We still have running-game assassin extraordinaire Yadi Molina behind the plate.

And we have the winningest active manager in the game leading them all in Tony LaRussa.

Ain’t no reason to cry, fellow Redbirds fans.  The NL Central climate may have changed; we probably don’t line up to run away with the division now, but we have every reason to watch every game and feel really damn good about it.

Rally the troops. 

This is war.

Haters g’on hate.

Hate me.  Fine.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

(Image courtesy of Eff Yeah Baseball Gifs)